"Lee Killough - The Leopard's Daughter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Killough Lee)

The Leopard's Daughter
by Lee Killough
This story copyright 1999 by Lee Killough. This copy was created for Jean Hardy's personal use. All
other rights are reserved. Thank you for honoring the copyright.

Published by Seattle Book Company, www.seattlebook.com.

* * *


The wind reeked of carrion. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Jeneba wondered how Tomo Silla could
have chosen such a campsite for Mseluku Karamoke's army, even just overnight. None of her brother
and sister warriors appeared to notice the stench however, and Mseluku had even complimented Tomo
on the beauty of the lake and its wooded shore, so Jeneba said nothing. She tethered her horse and after
leaning her spear, sword, and shield against a tree, joined the small party gathering wood. Seventeen
years had taught her it was wiser not to mention her keener-than-human senses of smell and hearing, or
anything else which might remind people that Jeneba Karamoke was not a full blooded noble nor pure
Dasa.
Bending down for a dried branch, she wondered bitterly again at the perversity of a King's sister
disdaining all human suitors to take a leopard-man for a lover. Sia Nyiba Karamoke's failings would not
ruin her daughter's life, though, Jeneba vowed. Her soul was Dasa and one day people would see that
and accept her as truly one of them, not just tolerate her because she was Mseluku's niece and without a
brother who might inherit the King's sword and shield.
She had come close today. Memory rushed back exhilaratingly... the earth warm beneath her bare
feet, sun heating her arms and shoulder bared by the wrap of her saffron-colored tsara, her shield heavy
on her left arm, but her sword arm working tirelessly as she and her warrior partner Kinetu Kone fought
side by side in perfect partnership, cutting through the Qeorou line like field workers harvesting grain.
How magnificent they had all looked, tall and lean above the Qeorou, skins dark and richly red-brown,
the bright beads strung on the long ropes of their hair clicking together with every movement. She and
Kineta had embraced in celebration as the Qeorou withdrew. He called her sister.
Behind her, the others in camp sang in celebration of the victory and their pride in being Dasa, led by
Mseluku's bard.
Hooooh! Dasa!
We are fierce warriors, lords of the Sahara plains.
The Creator Mala-Lesa smiles down on us,
Both her moon by night,
And his sun by day.
Our buffalo totem, powerful, wise, smiles on us.
We fear nothing.
Not Qeorou or Burdamu,
Not wizards or witches,
Not the demon nogama nor the half-men wachiru,
Not lion-men, leopard-men, hyena-men.
We trade where we will.
We hunt the wild buffalo and sheep.
We fatten our cattle on the sweet Sahara grasses.
We march into battle and emerge victorious.
Hooooh! Dada! Hooooh!
"Hoooh! Dasa!" Jeneba echoed.
 A throaty voice spoke from above her. "Greetings, sister."